by Hazel Parker
“I’ve had my eyes on you from the very start,” he growled. “Scar always gets what Scar wants. Your father was almost complicit without even realizing it, too. He thought that he could get in good with us and use us for whatever he desired. He had no idea who he was dealing with.”
I got to the front, away from all of the noise inside. I could hear police sirens off in the distance, but they were still a couple of minutes away. Inside, the gunshots had mostly ended.
This was my chance.
I took a deep breath through my nose, opened my mouth, and bit down hard on his teeth.
“Motherfucker!”
I screamed at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even get any words out—I just screamed as loud as I could, as if I wanted the entire city of Las Vegas to hear my shrill cries. It was the most panicked cry I could have made, which was exactly what I wanted—I wanted everyone to know I was in danger.
Scar hit me in the face and then repositioned his hand so that my jaw was clamped against my upper teeth.
“You stupid whore,” he said. “You’re going to pay for that.”
He then dragged me to his bike, which he forced me onto. I tried to get off, because I knew that as soon as the bike started up, to try and get off at full speed was suicidal.
“Scar!”
Already seated on the bike, I turned to see Richard with his machine gun cocked at Scar.
“Richard!” I screamed.
But just as I started to make my move, Scar turned on his bike and jammed the accelerator, just barely missing a vehicle in front of us. We cut across the front lawn as I leaned forward, holding on for dear life to the handlebars. Because Scar was behind me, he’d see all of my moves, and if I tried to go against the grain, I was going to get us both killed anyways.
“You’re fucking mine,” he whispered into my ear, his words sounding like a snake’s hiss.
I felt a rush of panic. But I had one hope.
I glanced behind me and saw several motorcycles giving chase—with Richard on one of them.
Chapter 19: Richard
The good news was that I now had Scar and Natasha in my sight. She looked a little bruised, but she didn’t look severely beaten.
The bad news, of course, was that Scar had her on his bike, and there was no getting her without either stopping the bike or crashing the bike, both of which had their own severe risks.
Dom, Mama, Barber, Pork, and I all gave chase to Scar, riding through the Sokolov’s front yard. We left the rest of the Saints behind to clean up the mess at the house and deal with any remaining Sinners. One of our men was dead, but that paled in comparison to all of the Sinners that we had killed.
Still, no matter what happened with Scar and Natasha, this had already been a terrible night. In addition to the loss of our member, Black Falcon, a couple of hostages had already been dead when we showed up. There were going to be investigations, questions, and all sorts of things over our heads that weren’t going to make our lives any easier.
But for now, I didn’t give a shit about that.
I had to rescue Natasha.
For now, we just gave chase to Scar and her, speeding as quickly as we could on our bikes, but we kept some distance for the time being, fearing that if we got too close, he would crash and kill her. She didn’t have a helmet on, making it extraordinarily difficult, if not outright impossible, for her to avoid death if she fell off. It would take a perfect roll and a perfect avoidance of her hitting her head, and even then, the rattling of her skull would likely cause its own set of problems.
We passed by some cops, but they moved far too slow and couldn’t do much of anything, anyways. About five of them swerved around, while two went to the home, but the five could only give chase after us. They had the same problem we did—to kill the criminal was to also kill the hostage.
When we got on the highway, though, the problem intensified. I knew now that Scar was taking her back to the warehouse, where many more Degenerate Sinners would be waiting for us, and there was just no chance that we were going to survive an attack of five of us against dozens of Sinners. Either we ran and Natasha got raped and possibly killed, we got killed in our attempts to rescue her at the warehouse, or we had to try something daring on this highway.
I struggled to come up with a good solution, especially since we were easily exceeding a hundred miles per hour on the freeway; what would have been about ten minutes of time to think was now quickly decreasing to perhaps two minutes before we had no chance.
Mama pulled up to the side of me and made a grabbing motion. I looked ahead at Scar’s bike. I saw no way that that was going to work—our bikes would swerve out or Scar’s would. Either way, Natasha would die.
The only way it was going to work was if the forward momentum of our bikes was so different… but even then…
That was too stupid of a risk. We had to take our chances at the warehouse. I waved Mama off.
We followed him off of the freeway, running out of options and time. Our chance to get Natasha was fading, and I knew I’d never live with myself.
And then, the simplest thing made the greatest of differences.
Scar tried to run a red light to turn left, but in doing so, he didn’t see an 18-wheeler barreling down on him. The truck blared its horn as Scar skidded out, slamming on the brakes and creating burn treads in the street.
“Natasha!” I screamed as the bike nearly fell skidded out and caused her to fall over.
Natasha and Scar, though, didn’t fall over.
But the moment had slowed Scar’s motorcycle to a complete halt, giving her enough of a chance to hop off, screaming and running toward the sidewalk. I slammed on my brakes, came to a halt right between her and Scar, and lined up my gun.
I fired.
My hands, though, were shaking too much for me to line up a perfectly accurate shot. I got one on Scar’s right shoulder, but he managed to escape. He flipped me off as he disappeared into the night. I knew he’d be back, and I knew that he was going to cause our club more hell in the future.
But for now, I had done what I needed to do.
Natasha was safe.
Mama, Dom, Pork, and Barber all pulled up in front of me, ignoring the annoyed horn of the truck behind us. I turned to Natasha, went up to her, and embraced her as she cried against my chest.
“Did he do anything to you?”
Through sobs, she shook her head.
“Good,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Natasha. I’m so sorry. I’m never, ever going to let that happen again.”
She continued to sob for a good minute or two. The truck behind us eventually got the picture and drove around us. I moved everything to the sidewalk as the police came driving up. Mario was among the crew and knew I wouldn’t have perpetrated such a crime. He let the cops talk to the other four officers, but he let Natasha and I have our moment.
“You’re safe,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”
I hadn’t even thought to say the words. They had just fallen out, but I knew that made them all the more authentic.
What else could I say to someone I had risked my life for?
She finally looked up, wiping tears from her eyes, and grabbed my cut with both hands.
“I love you too.”
She leaned up and kissed me gently, and then pressed her head back into my chest. Neither of us moved. Neither of us had anywhere to go.
We had each other.
We remained like so for several minutes. I slowly started looking around, noticing Mario watching me, as if waiting for a chance to speak to me. I held up a finger to ask for one moment. Mario nodded.
“Hey, I gotta go talk to the chief really quick,” I said. “You can stay by me if you want.”
Natasha nodded. Her legs were weak and barely able to hold herself up as the two of us walked about five steps before Mario walked over. I couldn’t even imagine what she must have gone through in her head. I never had to fear the prospe
ct of being raped; I’d always lived knowing I could have gotten killed, but that was usually because I had put myself in a spot where such a thing was possible.
“You guys OK?” Mario said as he came over.
“We’re fine,” I said. “She made a quick-thinking decision. I don’t know who was in that truck that stopped Scar, but that man literally saved her life.”
“I suppose we all have guardian angels,” Mario said gently. “Listen, the house is secured. We’ve arrested any remaining Sinners, but there’s a lot of dead bodies there. One of your men, and about twenty of the Sinners. Plus, two guests at the party.”
“Shit,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, but the Sokolovs are all fine,” he said. “Igor needs medical attention, but it’s not urgent. He says he’s not going to get any until he knows Natasha is fine. So—”
“We’ll go back,” Natasha said, her face still buried into my chest. “I have some questions for him.”
I looked to Mario and shrugged. I wasn’t about to argue with her, and it wasn’t even like I had a counterpoint to argue.
“Sounds good,” Mario said. “I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”
He sighed.
“What a mess, huh? The Sinners… in all the time I’ve known them, they’ve just been a small nuisance. I never thought they were capable of something like this.”
“They’re getting more audacious,” I admitted. “And after tonight, they’re only going to come after us even more. Mario, I know you have to follow legal procedure, but we could really use your help.”
I put my hand on his shoulder gently.
“Mama told me I gotta stop being so damn stubborn and refusing help. Well, consider this my request for help. Whatever pressure you can put on the Sinners, that would be great.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Mario said with a nod.
But even then, I knew that that wasn’t going to be enough. Mario was a great man, but Las Vegas had many more problems than just two feuding motorcycle clubs. We had to take matters into our own hands; we had to help ourselves. I knew just where to turn for that, too.
But for now, I needed to take Natasha home.
Chapter 18: Natasha
I still had no idea how I had survived all of that.
The instinct to run when Scar’s bike had had to skid out and come to a complete stop was built as much on the fact that I was in so much pain being on that bike as it was that I needed to survive; it’s not like I had the badass instinct to run off. If I had, I would have also given the asshole a few good licks and put him in position for Richard to finish.
But I had nevertheless survived.
All of the tears that came were not tears of sadness or of grief over what had happened. They were tears of utter relief, utter gratitude to not just have escaped rape and death but to be in the company of Richard. The chief of police had made the comment about us having guardian angels regarding the truck driver, but the real angel here was Richard.
Now that I was safe, though, I had to answer some questions that had been in my head.
I didn’t say a word to Richard as I hugged him tightly while we rode his bike. This wasn’t a function of the bike being too loud, either. I just… I was just fucking exhausted. I was still replaying the events of the last half hour in my head, and that didn’t leave much room for talking with Richard.
And I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was the responsibility of my father.
We pulled up to my parents’ house, and though I waited for Richard to follow me, as soon as he was by me, I all but stormed into the house. I found my father standing by the stairwell, grimacing in pain, but looking fine, my mother by his side. I made sure to make a point of having Richard by me as I spoke.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” I said, seething. “Did you know about Scar?”
My father bit his lip, looked to Richard, bowed his head, and took a deep breath.
“When I came to this city, I sought to make connections with those in the law and those above it,” he said. “One of the groups I learned of was the Degenerate Sinners. I thought that they might prove useful if I needed something and the law could not provide it, and so I met with Scar a few times. I can see now, however, that my thirst for that connection led to some incredibly destructive outcomes.”
He looked up and stared me right in the eyes, a sight that was much needed.
“I am so sorry, Natasha, for doing so. If I had known that this is what would happen, I never would have even considered meeting Scar.”
And then he did something I did not expect, though maybe in retrospect, given his words on Thursday and what had just happened, I could have seen it coming a little more.
“And Richard. I am sorry. I know they are your rival and they, too, are a motorcycle club, but I can see now I was wrong to judge you as one and the same. You act with compassion and loyalty. Scar acted with self-interest and personal gain. I have acted terribly with you, and I seek your forgiveness.”
Richard’s body seemed mighty relaxed despite having to face my father. I tried not to squeeze him as I waited to see what he would say, but I couldn’t help it as the tension in my hands increased. I knew if I was in Richard’s spot, it would have been very hard for me to find forgiveness, most certainly on the spot.
“I will forgive you on one condition.”
I looked up in surprise.
“Let your daughter make her own choice when it comes to me,” he said.
My heart warmed as he continued to speak, and the tears started to well in my eyes once more.
“You have spent much of her adult life trying to push her to marry someone. You got in a fistfight with me over her desires. While tonight’s attack seems more of a case of personal greed than anything else, surely, you must now recognize how much I care for her. Whether she chooses me or someone else, I want you to let her make her own choices.”
There is no way I’m choosing anyone other than you right now, Richard. No one else would have had the courage and guts you showed tonight.
I leaned into Richard as I waited for my father to respond. Whatever he said, I had gained a renewed desire for Richard. I had said before he had to prove himself after fighting with my father, but it wasn’t difficult to say he had done that and more.
“I must confess, after I heard her after our fight and over the past week at work, I knew how Natasha felt for you,” my father said, followed by a long, emotional sigh. “I know I have held onto her and tried to control her for far too long. She’s my only child, and I love her. I guess that has made me blind to allowing her to be free. I am sorry.”
“Trust me, I know what it’s like to have familial bonds make you blind, and not always in a good way,” Richard said softly. “But I want you to believe me when I say that if she chooses me, I will take good care of her. I will make sure the Sokolov name is one that is cherished, respected, and honored. I will make sure that your daughter is not only successful and free to do as she pleases, but that she is happy and leads the best life possible.”
My father then did something very sweet, something that he rarely did.
He smiled.
“Natasha,” he said, turning his attention to me. “I love you. I have only wanted what’s best for you. I misunderstood how best to make that happen. Can you forgive me?”
“Oh, Dad,” I said, leaving Richard’s side briefly to hug my father.
He gasped, causing me to pull back suddenly, having forgotten about the wound in his ribs. But he then hugged me at his own comfort level, and though it was not the tightest hug I’d ever had, it was one of the most loving.
“You’re my father,” I said. “Of course I forgive you.”
“And, by the way, he saved my ass,” Richard said. “Your father killed a Sinner with his bare hands. If that’s not badass, I don’t know what is!”
We all shared a tension-breaking laugh at that, even my father, though his laugh was more like a wheeze.
“I suppose I am pretty badass.”
We all laughed at that. It was the first time I had ever heard my father swear, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
But for now, as much as I was happy to see my father safe, there was someone else I wanted to be around a little bit more.
“Richard,” I said.
I walked over to him, expecting him to give me a nice hug. Instead, he lifted me in his arms, spun me around, and kissed me gently.
“Not in front of my Dad!” I whispered into his ear.
“I don’t care,” Richard said, not whispering himself. “Let the world know our love for each other. It’s going to happen more in front of him and a lot more people someday, anyway.”
I tried not to let my mind go immediately where it did: to the day when I’d wear a white gown and walk down the aisle. It was too early to say anything about that.
But then again, it had probably been too early to say we loved each other, and we had already done that. Maybe we didn’t need time; maybe we didn’t need to go slow. Maybe we were just right for each other and we just needed to move into it accordingly.
“I need to go to the hospital now,” my father said as Richard gently put me down. “My wife will accompany me. I will make sure that everyone else has left the place.”
“We’ll also need to leave,” Richard said. “This place is a crime scene, unfortunately. The LVPD will have to make a sweep of it. But I can take Natasha home.”
It was so obvious what was going to happen when we got back; I didn’t think that there was any way Richard could have said it without basically screaming “I’m going to bang your daughter.” But instead of reacting with a scowl or in any other negative expression, my father instead nodded, extended his hand, and shook firmly with Richard.
